


Seeking Solace

by bioticbootyshaker



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 05:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1806403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticbootyshaker/pseuds/bioticbootyshaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his confrontation with Taliesen, Zevran attempts to put his past, and his lingering affections, behind him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeking Solace

Neither of them had chosen the life. Zevran could still remember being very small and very afraid as he had been sold to the Crows; and later, when he had asked Taliesen about his own entrance to the organization, his face had shifted, and he had been a little boy again.  
For some reason, they had taken to one another. The others in the Crows had looked on Zevran, Rinna and Taliesen with contempt. Children with no hope, with no love, with no friendship — they had resented the three of them for daring to find a small bit of happiness together.  
They needn’t have bothered.  
Rinna was dead, betrayed by the ones she had trusted most. And now Taliesen…  
He had begged him to turn away, to return to Antiva and convince the Crows that he had completed his mission. No one had to know that Zevran still lived; he would happily make himself a ghost if that was his only recourse.  
Taliesen had refused, of course; he was every bit the stubborn fool he had always been. And now…  
A hand gripped his shoulder. Zevran didn’t move. He kept his eyes on Taliesen’s body, some ache deep in his chest refusing to let him move, refusing to let him speak. He could only stare, could only let the pain move through him with agonizing slowness. The only reprieve he was granted was when tears filled his eyes and doubled his vision; then, mercifully, Taliesen’s bloodied body was indistinct.  
"Come on, Zevran," Alistair whispered. The hand at his shoulder squeezed tightly. "We need to move on."  
Zevran let himself be led away.  
****  
The only good thing about pulling guard duty was that it gave him the chance to be alone. Everyone had their good intentions, he was sure, but the last thing Zevran wanted was to be coddled. He was not so fragile that he would fall to pieces over the death of one man.  
Many men had died at his hands, and none had ever haunted him or kept him awake at night.  
Yet, when he closed his eyes for too long, he could see Taliesen and Rinna…  
Zevran kept himself busy. He wandered the camp, keeping an eye out for darkspawn or bandits that might attack in the dark. Sten was still awake, sitting with his back against his tent, polishing his sword. _Ah, no, that is his soul, remember?, Zevran thought, Maker knows every soul is due for a good polishing._  
It should have been humorous, but it wasn’t. He imagined his soul was far from clean.  
"Keeping an eye out for trouble?" Zevran asked, as he passed Sten.  
"My dear Qunari," Zevran murmured. "We cannot simply go on ignoring this heat between us."  
"Is there something you needed, elf?" Sten asked pointedly.  
"No, no," Zevran chuckled. "The warmth of your friendship is enough."  
He wandered towards the fire, sitting down with a heavy sigh no one was close enough to hear. If he watched the fire and ignored everything else, he believed he might make it through the night without any unpleasantness. Some might call that avoidance, but Zevran hardly cared. Any technique that kept him far from misery was worth putting into practice.  
His plans, as usual, were spoiled. Funny, they always seemed to be spoiled by the same blond bastard prince.  
"Guard duty tonight?" Alistair asked. He sat down beside Zevran, uninvited, and rested his boot close to the fire. Zevran smirked, waiting for him to hiss in pain and draw his pretty leather back, but apparently it was sturdy stuff, because he remained still.  
"Ah, you are observant as always," Zevran said. There didn’t seem to be the same thrill in teasing the boy as there usually was, and Zevran sighed heavily. "What did you want, Alistair?"  
"Hmm? Oh, nothing. Why do I have to want something?"  
Zevran smiled. “You are worried for me. I am fine, I assure you. I mean would I be sitting here looking into a fire in the middle of the night if I _wasn’t_ fine?”  
There was a long stretch of silence between them. Uncomfortable enough, without Alistair’s eyes remaining steady on him. He wanted to tell the man to leave him be, to take his soft, pretty eyes to someone else, but he couldn’t quite manage the words. Perhaps he was simply too tired to run the fool off, but more likely he liked having Alistair around. There were worse things than having a good looking prince worried for you.  
"You loved him," Alistair said.  
Zevran started, looking at him with his eyes sharper than his daggers. Whatever the intention — concern or kindness or a sense of obligation — Alistair had no right to throw Taliesen in his face.  
"You would do well to get away from me," Zevran said through his teeth. "Before I end the Theirin bloodline here and now."  
"You never learned how to let go, did you?" Alistair asked. There was no fear, on his face or in his voice. "You hold on to everything, no matter what it is, because you’re afraid."  
"What would I be afraid of?" Zevran asked. The rage left his voice, replaced with sadness and softness and all kinds of vulnerable, naked things Zevran hated himself for.  
"Of forgetting who you used to be," Alistair said.  
Zevran laughed. “Ah, you have me all figured out, don’t you?”  
His smile fell when Alistair’s fingers gripped under his jaw and tilted his face up. For a while — Zevran wasn’t even sure how long — he stared up into Alistair’s eyes and let himself get lost there. There was nothing he could do to keep the memories away, nothing he could do to forget that once, he had loved, and he had been loved, and he had made himself a home in a painful, cold place.  
Rinna and Taliesen were dead. The truth of that sunk in, finally, at long last, and Zevran felt the tears on his face before he could stop them.  
"I don’t have you figured out," Alistair said. "Every time I think I do, you find some way to surprise me." His thumbs slipped over Zevran’s cheeks, wiping his tears away. "I think you’re softer than you want to admit you are. And _better_.”  
“ _Braska_ ,” Zevran swore. The word lost its power with the trembling of his voice. “Has anyone told you how annoying you are?”  
Alistair smiled. “A few.”  
Zevran sighed, his breath slipping between Alistair’s lips when the fool leaned in and kissed him.  
He threaded his fingers through Alistair’s hair and pulled him closer. When he closed his eyes, he could see Rinna and Taliesen in the darkness; but the pain came slower and duller.  
"You are a pain in my ass, _il mio principe_.”  
Alistair chuckled, nuzzling his nose against Zevran’s. “I guess I love you too,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anon on tumblr, part of a prompt/pairing meme.


End file.
